


Exchange of Comforts

by JaySketchin



Category: The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance (TV)
Genre: Bonding, Campfires, Comfort, Comfort Food, Fluff, Gen, Healed!Crystal AU, Performing for Friends, Sharing a Meal, Singing, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:27:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27527632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaySketchin/pseuds/JaySketchin
Summary: During the heart of the war, there is no greater comfort than the company of friends. Sometimes a night’s chat and some warm food is all one needed to carry on to the next day. It’s fortunate that talking is Brea and Kylan’s specialty.
Relationships: Brea/Kylan (Dark Crystal)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	Exchange of Comforts

It had been a long week. The last fight against the Garthim hordes had been a closer dance with death than the gelfling liked. Few had been taken, but many others had been lost in the fight. It was a risky trek through the Endless Forest and the resistance had known that going in. That didn’t make the loss hurt any less, however. They couldn’t stop the fight, but that did not mean sacrifices would go without acknowledgment and proper, respectful burials.

The morning prior had been the day they buried the dead. It was routine, but Kylan found that it never grew old to him. With each body they planted in Thra’s soil and each song they sang, Kylan could feel the weight on his heart grow stronger. Life was a cycle, but that didn’t make the pain lessen. Some of the faces Kylan had known from childhood, grown-up like him. Many others he hadn’t known at all. Those faces held stories Kylan would never know, and that was what weighed on him. They were now the notes of a new, larger song, their own melody forever unsung. 

Kylan wasn’t sure if he was meant to be comforted or disturbed by that truth. 

On days such as this, he was grateful to have the peace a campfire granted him. The camp the Resistance had formed in the woods just outside Sami Thicket was spread apart. Each settlement had a watch and the instruments ready to warn the other camps if an attack were to strike. His camp, which held the company of his friends, was quiet at this hour. Naia and the others had gone to bed, but Kylan was still awake.

He was still stirring the small bowl over the fire, making an earthen broth that was generously dashed with herbs he had foraged over many unums. The second sister was in its zenith, casting a pale glow across the sky. Kylan found himself watching it many times, admiring the soft haze over the clouds and the glimmering stars between them. Down here, the world was so different. Yet the sky remained the same. It was comforting to him.

Another comfort to Kylan when the war was heavy on his heart was music. While the ballads of the past were a noble hymn to tell in his own tune, moments of the present had a tendency to inspire him. Kylan would dreametch the stories as he saw them as always, but on rare occasions, he found a story worthy of being told in the art of lyrics and melody. It was a simple hobby of his. The current state of the world left him unsure of performing those songs, but he kept them safe within his pack.

Tonight, with the Blue Moon drifting down over his fire, Kylan found a quiet moment to work. He found it was easier to conjure new ideas with fresh herbs in his belly- so he served a bowl for himself and gave it a generous sip. Satisfied, Kylan reached into his shirt and carefully pulled out his firca. The bell-bird’s bone was smooth and as pale as the moon above Kylan’s head. As the only true belonging he had left, Kylan kept it as protected as he could without taking it off his person.

Kylan shut his eyes, holding the firca between his fingers as he recalled his last instance of musical conception. It didn’t take very long for the melody and words to come back to him. Kylan’s lips curled into a gentle smile. From his throat came a soft hum as Kylan sounded out the beginnings of a new chant to follow the last. The fire crackled and he ever-so-carefully swayed his head as he experimented with new, unique sounds that were fully his own.

However, the snapping of twigs behind him was _definitely_ not his own.

Kylan’s eyes shot open. With a startled gasp, he whirled around. His hand reached for the scabbard that was resting on the log behind him. Kylan’s heart was caught in his throat. Instead of a Skeksis creation, he was relieved to see a familiar face. His brown eyes met a golden pair that were equally wide in surprise.

Brea gasped and froze, crushing some forest floor debris under her boot. She raised her hands. “Oh! I’m sorry,” she apologized quickly. Her rounded ears fell back in a visual display of regret. “It’s just me.”

Kylan let out a deep gulp of air. “I’m beginning to sense a pattern in our greetings,” he remarked while turning back to the fire. For some reason, they were terribly good at giving each other a fright.

The lighthearted remark made Brea soften. “My sisters used to complain that I was too quiet while I was young,” she replied. There was another soft crunch of twigs as she approached Kylan’s place on the ground. “I suppose there are some things I haven’t outgrown yet.”

“Either you’re too quiet or I’m too easily-frightened,” Kylan countered. He glanced back at his firca, now merely fiddling with it in his hands.

Brea smiled, huffing a small laugh. She watched the fire for a moment, then looked to Kylan. “I heard your voice, so I came over to investigate.” Brea tilted her head, curious. “What are you doing awake so late?”

Kylan hummed. Part of him was embarrassed Brea had heard his experimental singing. He knew whatever he shared with Brea was protected, however. She never broke promises of secrecy. “I find it hard to rest when my mind is elsewhere,” he answered in earnest. Kylan gestured to the fire, the bowl still warming over the low flame. “Broth?”

“Oh, yes, please.” Brea walked over and found a spot next to Kylan. The leaves rustled as she settled down on the ground. Brea crossed her legs, already eager. Kylan had to smile as he grabbed a second bowl from the fire. Cooking wasn’t his passion, but it did bring him a small amount of joy to see the happiness it brought others. Brea gratefully accepted it when he held it out to her and took a long sip. Her eyes shut and a small hum of pleasure escaped her lips. “Kylan, you have a gift,” she said after a moment. “This is delicious.”

“Thank you.” Kylan beamed at the compliment. He looked back at the pot and stirred it. “It’s mostly herbs I’ve gathered over the past unum. If we were on the southern border of Sami Thicket, I’d treat you to a proper brew.”

Brea shook her head. “I think it’s perfect,” she kindly argued. Kylan smiled, ears growing warm. “Is this something you do every night?”

Kylan laughed to himself. “No. Only when I think I need it.” He took another sip of his broth. “Sometimes the weight of our reality that we face each morning is too great. So I take a night to myself. It helps… calm me down.” He glanced over at Brea. “It’s also nice to get some peace from our group.”

That made Brea giggle. “That’s true. It seems like Rian and Gurjin always have something to fight about.” She glanced back over her shoulder, watching the tents that were only a few lights away from going into darkness.

“Oh, I wouldn’t call what they do fighting,” Kylan said with a smirk. He was more passive than others, but he certainly wasn’t blind. “It’s simply their way of expressing feelings.”

Brea looked back at Kylan. “What makes you say that?” she asked curiously.

Kylan fidgeted with his firca. “Well, ever since that fight with the blue mouth, I think Gurjin has gotten into the worry that Rian is defenseless without him,” he explained carefully. “Of course, that’s not true, but he seems to have forgotten that.” He looked over to watch their shared tent from a distance. “The flavor of their words may seem concerning, but it all comes from a place of tenderness for the other.”’

Brea’s ears sunk as she tilted her head. “I never thought of it that way,” she remarked. Brea watched Kylan then smirked. “Do you make these kinds of observations about everyone?” 

That made Kylan chuckle. “Well, you don’t have to say it like that,” he replied. “I don’t _spy_ on everyone.” He sat back, spine resting against the log. “When you spend most of the time standing back and listening, you tend to pick up a few things.”

“I see…” Brea took another sip of her broth. Her ears perked as an idea came to her, and her golden irises flickered back to Kylan. In one motion, she set her bowl aside and rested her elbow on her knee, propped under her chin. “In that case, Wise Kylan the Songteller, what have you learned about me?”

Kylan paused. He glanced over at Brea and felt his face begin to warm. “Uh,” he began slowly. He set down his bowl while his right hand fidgeted with the firca. “Not as much as anyone else does, I think.” When Brea looked confused, he elaborated. “You’re not shy about how you feel or what you believe. You’re as confident in your words and actions as you are clever.” He smiled softly. “Mother Aughra didn’t grant you that title lightly.”

Brea softened and looked down. “I keep _some_ secrets,” she countered with a shy smile.

“Of course,” Kylan agreed. “Everyone does. You’re no exception, nor am I.” He lightly gestured towards her, palm facing the ground. “What I mean is that you’re confident in your knowledge of yourself, not just the world around you. You know your purpose and who you are.” He smiled at her, hoping that was taken the way he had wanted it to.

Brea returned it. “Thank you, Kylan,” she said. “That’s very sweet.” Something he said had caught her attention. “You said you have secrets?” 

Kylan chuckled. “A few,” he confirmed quietly. He returned to his firca, believing that was the end of it. There was a movement in his peripheral vision. Kylan glanced over, huffing a laugh as he noticed Brea shuffling closer and leaning towards him. Her eyes watched him expectantly. “What? You want me to _tell you?”_ he questioned. His brow furrowed and he shook his head. “I’m not that easily read, Brea.”

“You can’t say that you have secrets and then not tell me, Kylan,” Brea argued gently. “Now I have even _more_ questions.”

Her curiosity was admirable, if not amusing. “Well, I _could_ just refuse to tell you,” he countered with a smirk. “What then?”

Brea paused, then grinned. “Then I’ll just keep asking you until you do tell me.” She leaned in closer so he couldn’t avoid looking at her quite as much. “Who has more patience- wisdom or cleverness?”

Kylan hummed in amusement. Deep down, he knew his secrets were not as heavily guarded as he implied them to be. He trusted his friends and he knew his deepest truths were in safe hands if he ever felt compelled to part with them. That didn’t mean pretending to be a vault of secrets wasn’t fun, though. Although a few memories came to mind that he thought Brea would like. He leaned in slightly so his lips were closer to her ear.

“... I bit skekLi,” he admitted quietly.

“... What?” Brea looked at him with wide, confused eyes. “You… _bit_ them?”

Kylan grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, on- on the hand,” he explained. Brea watched him, mouth agape. “We were trying to get the bellbone for my firca, and he was fighting us. I had to-”

“Wait, hold on!” Brea held up a finger. “You _bit_ skekLi’s hand?” He nodded, and she let out a choke of disbelief. “skekLi the Satirist?”

“Mmhm, yeah.” He leaned his head onto one hand. “Hard enough to draw blood- by the way, _never_ taste Skeksis blood. It tastes _repulsive.”_

Brea threw her head back and laughed- hard. “How in Thra’s name did you manage that? _Why?”_

Kylan shrugged. “Naia and Amri were going to get captured, and I didn’t have any weapons.” He dared a small smile of rare pride. “It definitely surprised him.”

“I can imagine,” Brea reasoned with a giggle. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.” She elbowed him.

“You could never get on my bad side, Brea,” Kylan countered, voice gentle. “The only person who’s gotten close is Naia, but I wouldn’t even call our little squabbles a fight.”

Brea hummed. “You two are really close,” she mused. “You never told me how you met.”

Kylan smiled. “Oh, well… that’s a bit of a long story,” he said. “You could say that I invited myself as her travel companion.” He shook his head. “I don’t think there’s enough time to make a song out of that in one night.”

Brea hummed. “You could always show me?” Her hand raised between them.

“I could,” Kylan offered. “But some stories are best told, not seen.” Brea hummed thoughtfully and he returned to his firca, sighing. “I’m not the best of company at this time. My apologies.” Usually, he had no problem entertaining his group. Tonight, however, his mind was too far gone to focus.

“You’re _great_ company, Kylan,” Brea adamantly disagreed. She frowned. “What’s bothering you?”

Kylan quietly exhaled. He didn’t want to bother Brea with his personal struggles- not when she was leading the resistance on her back. He _also_ knew that she wouldn’t give up asking until he relented, so he was torn. Eventually, he gave in to the latter. “There’s only so many times you can sing a burial hymn before the graves begin to drag you down with them.” Kylan shut his eyes and swallowed. “I think today was the day I found out what my limit was.”

At first, there was no response from beside him. Kylan didn’t think anything of it and didn’t move. He wasn’t expecting pity, nor did he desire it. The last thing he wanted was to become a burden on the group. The sensation of a weight over his hand drew him back out of his moment of dreariness. Kylan opened his eyes and saw a familiar hand resting over his. Brea was watching him with a sad expression. She squeezed his hand, silently offering the reassurance that what he was feeling was validated and justified.

Kylan couldn’t help but smile. He let go of his bone firca, letting it clink against his chest, and put his other palm over Brea’s. “Thank you,” he said softly. 

Brea smiled at him, holding her hand to his for a few more breaths before letting go. “Is that what you were singing before?” she asked. The change in topic was an offer to Kylan to take the focus off him if he desired it, and he was grateful for it. “Was that a burial hymn?”

Kylan blinked. “Hm? Oh, that.” He touched the end of his firca. “No- no, that was… a bit of my own work. It’s a song I’ve been slowly making sense of.”

Brea perked up. “I didn’t know you were making your own song,” she marveled. She leaned forward, hands in her lap. “What’s it about?”

“You,” Kylan answered. There was a pause as Brea’s expression went still, and Kylan realized how that sounded. “Oh, Thra- not like that! I don’t mean it that way! I’m working on your _part,_ but it’s about all of us. It’s about the Resistance, not… Sorry. That came out wrong.” His ears burned with embarrassment.

“It’s alright, Kylan. I understand,” Brea reassured. She was smiling and there was humor in her voice, but Kylan could see her face had a twinge of red now. “Is it a sad song?”

“No,” Kylan answered firmly. “... Well, I hope it isn’t. I think I’ve heard the words too many times to give it a fair judgment.”

Brea hummed, understanding Kylan’s dilemma well. “You could play it for me? I’m not a songteller, so my words would be as good as any audience.”

“You’re also biased because we’re friends,” Kylan pointed out.

“I can be fair,” she argued. Brea crossed her arms and flicked her ears defensively. “Please, Kylan?”

For a moment, Kylan paused. Then, with a soft sigh, he conceded. “Alright,” he said. He took his firca out and got into the proper position for songtelling. Brea crossed her legs and sat up, giving Kylan her full attention as an audience member. His ear flicked shyly for a moment. Then, after licking his lips and taking a breath, he played a long, singular note on his firca. The sound was sweet in the evening winds. 

A moment later, his words followed. The song was still being worked on, so it was stilted in some places and lacked rhythm in others. Kylan followed through the verses in a low voice, not wanting to wake his friends. Playing to an audience often made his voice tremble, so to combat this, Kylan shut his eyes. The song portrayed the early days of the Resistance, with each verse following over each of their friends and their role. He sang of Rian’s tragic first steps, Deet’s curiosity, Gurjin’s resilience, and Naia’s ferocity. The song mentioned others, as well, and he would have seen Brea’s expression soften at Tavra’s verse if he had looked.

Brea herself was the next verse, and the one he was still in the process of finishing. It portrayed her cleverness in finding Lore and leading the group to the Circle of the Suns. However, there was a part that told the strength of her heart and her compassion. He lingered there for a moment, unsure what to say about the others yet. So he continued on, clumsily finding the ending verse of the song. 

As the song ended, Kylan took a few breaths to himself. Then, with a deep exhale, he opened his eyes again. Brea was still watching him, eyes wide as ever, but she was smiling. Kylan’s ears fell back slightly and he chuckled nervously. “Well, um,” he began. “That’s all I have for right now. It’s still being worked on. So…”

“That was beautiful, Kylan!” Brea politely clapped her hands, but quickly remembered their friends were sleeping and clasped them together instead. “It was wonderful. You’re very talented.”

He had been told that before, but it felt different coming from a friend. Kylan’s blush burned the tips of his ears red. “T-Thank you, Brea,” he replied. “You’re… you’re a very talented audience.” His face immediately contorted into regret as he processed what came out of his mouth. “ I-I mean, um… you’re a _good_ audience. Not… talented, that’s not… the right words.”

Brea laughed. “I understand, Kylan,” she reassured him. She was always so patient with him. It was one of the many things Kylan enjoyed about having her as a friend. Brea took one last sip of her broth, finishing it, then exhaled. Her eyes tiredly blinked. “... I should probably go back before I fall asleep here,” she remarked.

Kylan chuckled. “Yes, please do,” he said firmly. “Sleeping on the soil is not as comfortable as you’d think.”

“Alright.” Brea stood up, dusting off her skirt as she rose. “Don’t stay up too late, Kylan.” She paused to touch his shoulder. “And… thank you. For the food and for the song.”

“You’re welcome.” Kylan reached up and touched Brea’s hand with his own. He flashed her a small smile, then pulled away. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Brea turned on her heel and headed back to bed. Kylan craned his neck to look behind him, watching to ensure she got back safely. 

As the crunching of leaves faded and she disappeared into the shadows surrounding the campfire, Kylan relaxed. He turned back to the flames, still holding his firca in his hands. His heart was pounding in his chest from the sudden performance. He took a deep breath, exhaling his nerves to the best of his ability. It wasn’t normal for him to be so nervous after singing. He supposed performing a song about a friend _to_ that friend did change some things.

Kylan took another deep breath. Regardless of his performance, Brea’s presence had eased his mind significantly. His heartache was still there, but not as strong as it had been before. He smiled to himself. He was glad to still have his friends.

**Author's Note:**

> I had this in my WIPs since chapter six of Endurance! I'm glad it's finally out in the world! Hope you like it! :D


End file.
